


Werebear North, Sandy, and a Poet

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 10:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "Werebear!North when the full moon falls on Christmas Eve"





	Werebear North, Sandy, and a Poet

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr 12/7/2014.

Something different had to be done this year. In 1779, North had managed with a disguise: heavy fur hood, long, fake white beard, thick gloves, long coat, large boots. But it didn’t do wonders for the kind of joyful belief that fueled his magic when those that did see him were only able to make out a hulking figure that, though dressed like a man, didn’t move like one. Of course, the believers discovering that a  _bear_  was visiting their homes on Christmas wouldn’t have helped, either.

 

            The problem now was that some of his young believers had only a very vague idea of what North looked like, which made his form highly unstable, even for a were-bear. His transformations lasted longer than ever, and at their peak, it was difficult for him to retain his human thoughts.

            So now, on Christmas Eve 1787, when the moon was going to be totally full, he was definitely going to be a bear. Just a very large bear, dressed as Santa Claus.

            That is, this would happen if he could even get in the sleigh at all. Three nights remained before Christmas, and the reindeer barely tolerated him in their stables.

            But who could he call on for help? Tooth never left her palace, Bunny was already busy preparing for Easter, Sandy was always busy—

            Sandy was always busy, but he sometimes did find time to relax with North. Maybe he could find time to help him now. Certainly, he would. For the sake of the believers.

            Sandy was glad to help him, and didn’t seem daunted by the number of presents North asked him to deliver. After all, he gave more dreams than that every night, and these were only physical objects.

            North explained everything to him, again and again, as he sewed a miniature version of his red coat for Sandy, his voice becoming more and more like a growl with every hour. Sandy simply nodded along, his head crowed with a ring of dreamsand that flowed up from the pipe he had affected for a few years now.

            There was a setback with the sleigh, however: the reindeer shied away from Sandy, too, and there was no time for them to get used to him.

            But then, with a few exhales of dreamsand smoke, and a few more gestures, a dreamsand sleigh with eight dreamsand reindeer harnessed to it took shape.

            North sighed in relief and right out of his human form.

            When he returned to it a couple days later, he knew that Sandy, dressed as him, must have done his job perfectly. He felt more solid, more real than ever. He felt a bit shorter, but—ah, no, it was nothing. He was simply shorter as a man rather than a bear.

            Sandy  _did_  mentioned something about being seen, but that was what he had wanted, right? To be seen as human, for another year in a row?

            When North lost a full foot of height in 1823—well, it was still better than terrifying children as a bear. But he did make a point to ask Sandy not to have any more poets mistake him for North on full moon Christmas Eves after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes and Comments from Tumblr:
> 
> (Author’s Note: The poet in question would be Clement C. Moore, author of Twas the Night Before Christmas)
> 
> *
> 
> bowlingforgerbils said: That’s adorable! I wonder if Sandy has anything to do with Tomte?


End file.
